


I wanna kiss him, I wanna kiss her

by Themagesheir



Category: Clone High
Genre: F/M, Fuck it. They're all autistic because I am autistic and I make the rules, I will force my music headcannons in here like my life depends on it, It's not like, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oh also van gogh is non binary, Updates whenever I'm bad at deadlines, a slow slow burn, ambiguous timeline, but it certainly isn't fast, joanfgogh polycule babey!!!, just a bunch of idiots pining, this is gonna be very van gogh centric because i love him, van gogh is also very oblivious in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themagesheir/pseuds/Themagesheir
Summary: JFK and Vincent are assigned to do an art project together
Relationships: JFK/Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High), Joan of Arc/JFK (Clone High), Vincent van Gogh/JFK/Joan of Arc (Clone High), Vincent van Gogh/Joan of Arc (Clone High)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be my first multi chapter fic so lets see how it goes!! title is from i want to kiss you by the spook school!

Having another human being in his space was not something Vincent was used to.  
His room, which he viewed as a quiet place to be alone, specifically tailored to his needs as a person, now felt claustrophobic with JFK perched on his bed.  
Having someone other than his parents see his room felt like an amount of intimacy that seemed incredibly inappropriate for a school project. Of course, Vincent didn't have any time to ponder his feelings about the matter before JFK broke the silence.  
"So do you uh, know how to paint some really hot dudes?"  
Vincent hesitated answering, wondering what exactly he signed up for with this project, "...yes, why?"  
JFK looked at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "the teacher said to paint something that represents ourselves, so obviously I have to paint a real hunk!"  
Vincent's face was a perfect blend of confusion and amusement, "I think she meant it in a more you know, metaphorical sense, to paint things that are part of your identity." JFK's face remained blank as van gogh explained, he decided that a visual may help matters, "For example," he said pulling out one of his old paintings, a version of the original van gogh's self portrait, but where the originals colours were fairly subdued, this one was so bright it almost hurt. The lines drawn in a way that made it difficult for your eyes to focus on any single portion of the portrait instead forcing you to look at it as a whole, shifting piece of art. "This is an old piece I did, it's supposed to be about the expectations of being a clone of a great artist, it's hard to look at in order to contrast with the palatable beauty of the original, show that art isn't always just what is aesthetically pleasing, and the unpalatibility of raw emotion and all that, you know?" When he looked up at JFK, his cheeks were dusted a soft pink and he was staring just a little bit too intensely  
"I er, don't." He quickly scrambled to make up for his bluntness, "but that sounded really smart and all!"  
"...thank you," Vincent mumbled, "so, what do you think you want to paint"  
Jfk screwed up his face, clearly putting more thought into it that Vincent had seen him do with anything before now, "I think I want to do something with cars."

The hours passed by easily enough, Vincent settled on an original piece, full of vibrent colours and hidden objects that mimicked the old eye spy books he read as a child. To both boys surprise, JFK's painting turned out really well, with ample help from Vincent's artistic eye, John painted an impressively accurate replica of his van, the van itself was relatively blank, aside from a series of bullet holes peppering the side that appeared to be leaking blood. Vincent was almost sure this had something to do with the original John F Kennedy's untimely death but when he pressed JFK about it he simply replied with, "Guns are fucking sick, that's why," And Vincent decided that if he didn't want to talk about it, he didn't have to, being fully aware of how uncomfortable it is to explain your feelings to another person, especially when you don't know that person outside of one art class and a shared sports team.  
JFK couldn't help but notice that when Vincent really focused on a project he'd chew on the inside of his cheek, he also appeared to be absent mindedly humming a song that JFK couldn't name, but sounded beautiful coming from the artist.  
By the time the two were finished, Van Gogh's sweater was splattered with a multicolored array of paint. looking down at his sweater with mild annoyance he swiftly removed it and placed it in his laundry basket. Without his baggy sweater, JFK could see Vincent's entire bare chest, his back and shoulders were dotted with freckles and a small patch of orange hair sat right in the center of his chest, the most unexpected thing though, was the lean, defined muscle that shifted under the florescent lights of his bedroom as he leaned upwards to grab a new sweater, pale skin the color of porcelain.  
JFK felt his face heat rapidly, "since when have you been so ripped little man?"  
This elicited a slight giggle from the artist, a thing that did not help JFK's growing blush,  
"what? So you assumed I could rip a stop sign from the ground and throw it through a glass building like it was nothing with absolutely so muscle mass whatsoever?"  
JFK looked confused, "I do not think I was there for that."  
"Well I'm also on the track and field team, remember?"  
When JFK's face remained the same mask of confusion, Vincent sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "you are also on the track and field team, John."  
"Oh yeah, I guess I am." JFK answered blankly.  
A silence stretched out for what felt like hours as the two stared at one another. Quickly, as though stuck by an electric current, John bolted up,  
"I er, have to go!" He announced, before quickly walking downstairs to let himself out of the van Gogh household. Vincent barely had time to hand him the still drying painting as he rushed out the door, leaving Vincent alone in his room once again wondering what he did wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan and JFK have a chat

JFK walked until his feet ached. Van Gogh's house was on the complete other side of the city from where he lived and he wasn't familiar enough with the area to competently find his way home. So he kept walking, clinging to the now dry painting and cursing himself for being such an idiot. There was a million normal things he could have said but instead he just had to leave immediately! He didn't even take the time to give Vincent a proper excuse, hell, he probably thought that he did something wrong himself, knowing how nervous the kid is! John was so busy freaking himself out he barely noticed when he arrived outside Joan and Cleo's shared home. After him and Joan got together, he went to her for essentially any problem he couldn't fix with punching, which in JFK's case was actually very few, but she still helped him a great deal. As soon as he knocked on the door he was quickly rushed up to Joan's room to avoid any drawn out conversation with her step  
Grandfather or, god forbid, Cleo's foster mother. Although, he did take the time to carefully set down his painting on the table before hurrying upstairs. Almost as soon as the door to Joan's room closed JFK let out a sigh he did know he was holding in.  
"What's up, dude?" Joan questions, leading JFK to take a seat on her bed.  
"Well, there's this guy, I think I'm allergic to him."  
Joan looks him blankly in the eyes, "elaborate."  
"Well whenever I look at him, my face gets all hot and er, I get dizzy and a sort of, uh headache but it doesn't hurt, and when I try to talk to him I always say something stupid, even more stupid than normal joan! I don't know what to do! I really like the guy but I'm worried I'll have to buy one of those epi pens if I wanna keep hanging out!"

JFK had shifted so he was resting his head on Joan's chest as she absent mindedly played with his hair, she was tracing along his hairline when she finally spoke, "have you considered that you have a crush on this person?"  
JFK paused for a moment, "you would be okay with that?"  
Joan have him a soft kiss on the forehead, "of course dude, that's sort of the whole point of polyamoury, isn't it?"  
"That's even worse! If I like the guy I have to worry about doing something about that, or making him uncomfortable, hell we don't even know if he likes guys!" JFK groaned, burying his head into the crook of Joan's neck.  
"Just talk to him John, I'm sure he'll be no match for your classic Kennedy charm! Maybe just ask him to the grassy knoll for a shake or something, doesn't have to be a big deal if you don't make it."  
"But he's so confusing joan! I wouldn't even know how to start impressing someone like him!"  
"You could always start by spending time with him," Joan suggested, "I'm sure he'll tell you about his interests the more you talk to one another."  
JFK hummed in agreement, "that's so smart Joan, I swear you're the cleverest broad I've ever dated."  
"I don't think that's a particularly high bar, but thank you anyways," Joan said, "now you better head home, your dad's are gonna wonder where you've been. Plus, you've got a guy to woo!"  
"Thanks Joan, you're a real life saver!"  
"Just make sure to be polite John, and good luck!"  
JFK picked up his painting, and sauntering out the door, now armed with a plan to win the affections of his favorite classmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tysm for reading!!! JFK assuming he's allergic to Vincent is an actual thing I assumed about my boyfriend because this fic is written by a himbo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van gogh and Joan movie night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I made a van gogh playlist in case you want something to listen to while reading this or you just want the vibes of this wonderful little man https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4rkmKxqYbKiqDNfEnkrmkl?si=biggie thought hands me

Hatching a revenge plot to publicly humiliate a man for messing with a teen crisis hotline is a remarkable way to start a friendship. Ever since that night, Joan always made a point to wave at the small artist when she passed him in the halls, in turn, Vincent complimented her shoes or outfit. Eventually casual conversations became Saturday movie nights and trips to shows playing all around the city. They were good for one another, Vincent introduced Joan to My Chemical Romance, and Joan was with Vincent to buy his first pair of Docs, she even bought him the striking purple laces he still uses today.

It was one of those Saturday movie nights, the day after JFK's visit to Joan, that Vincent found himself curled up on an end of Joan's couch, watching Beetlejuice, with Joan's arm thrown across his shoulder. They had been with one another the entire day, most of it spent playing music in the basement. Joan had always been a superstar on the guitar and her voice was rough and powerful and beautiful. Vincent had never been one for making music but with the help of Joan and Toots, he'd been making good progress on the keyboard.  
For dinner Vincent made them a beautiful risotto, since despite Joan's many talents, cooking had never been an ability she possessed, and Vincent was always happy to make something nice for the people he cared about. They were now contentedly finishing their day with their third favorite movie.

They were always affectionate but today Joan was extra concious of the warmth radiating from Vincent's body. One of the effects of wearing a wool coat year round is Vincent's skin was always touched with a plesent warmth which Joan always appreciated. Her hands were always cold and dry no matter the season, a problem usually fixed by her hand being intwined with JFK's. But Vincent wasn't JFK, JFK was strong and solid, he smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and his hands were thick and calloused, he made her feel at home. Vincent was small and precise, he smelled like elderflower and paint thinner and the pavement after a rainstorm, his hands were delicate things, made to create beautiful art. He made her feel like she was free falling in the best way possible.   
Joan paused for a moment, realizing that the way she thought about Vincent probably not the most platonic thing in the world. As soon as this realization struck she began spiralling into a well of her own fears, there's no way she's ruining this friendship for one little crush, but what if it's weirder to not tell him? Rejection would be shitty but what if he likes her back? Not everyone is okay with polyamoury and she sure as hell isn't leaving JFK. fuck, she doesn't even know if he likes girls!   
Joan begins to stand to clear her mind, maybe get a glass of water, but when she does she's met with the weight of van Gogh's sleeping head on her shoulder. She sighs and settles in, deciding that whatever crisis she's having can be resolved in the morning without the head of a man she's developing feelings for on her shoulder. 

When they awoke in the morning, Vincent excused himself quickly to go play D&D at nostradamus' house like he did every Sunday, leaving her alone with only her thoughts. She had slumped against the wall when she heard a tentative knock at the door, "Joanie? You in there?"  
"Yeah toots, come on in"  
Toots creaked open the door and sat himself down on Joan's bed, facing towards Joan's voice with worry lines on his face, "you alright Joanie? You sounded pretty cut up when that artist kid left this morning."  
Joan wringed her hands, finding comfort in the repeated movement,  
"you ever had a crush on a really close friend?"

"Course I have Joanie, I've been on this earth 65 years haven't I?"  
He paused for a moment, considering what advice he should give to his foster granddaughter,  
"I think it would be best if you just let him know, don't put any pressure on him, but honesty always helps, especially in the long-term, you don't want that kind of weight on your shoulders. You should probably start of by telling that kennedy boy of yours, though."

Joan walked over to her bed, sitting down and giving Toots a side hug, 

"thank Toots, you always have help when I need it"

Toots have her a loving smile, "of course Joanie, that's what family's for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I love Toots very much he is just so very good, also this chapter is 90% joan and van gogh headcannons so hope you had fun with that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JFK and van gogh go to an art exhibit, yearning ensues

Vincent slowly packs his things and begins meandering out of his class, not excited to make the half hour walk back to his house. As he swiftly doged the chaotic mob of students coming from every door, he began to hear heavy footsteps as Kennedy attempts to flag him down, 

"Van gogh! Wait up man!"

Vincent turns just in time to see JFK trip over his own feet in an attempt to stop moving and fall over. Once realizing that JFK was unhurt Vincent laughs quietly as he offers him a hand, helping him stand up with relative ease. 

“I forgot you were strong! Could get used to ya being around, helping me up you know.”  
Kennedy brushes himself off and begins walking with Vincent. He draws in a sharp breath, shaking off nerves he's not used to experiencing, “So er, I was wondering if you were free this weekend, they're doing an uh, art thing down at the museum and i got tickets if you wanted to come with me?”

"I'm free Sunday if that's cool with you?"  
JFK felt himself exhale as he got an answer, the tension leaving his body in waves, he's so excited his plan actually worked he barely remembers to respond, 

"Oh er, yeah! I'll pick you up at noon!"   
The two part ways as they walk to their individual homes, JFK practically running to his so he could get home and tell Joan about the news. He barrels up the stairs and collapses on the bed just as he hits dial on his cell phone, the line rings for a few moments before Joan picks up the receiver.

"Hey Kennedy, what's up?"

"I asked him to the art exhibit and he uh, he said yes!" 

"That's awesome man! When are you going?"

"I told him I'm picking him up this Sunday at noon," JFK pauses for a moment, "fuck, I need to clean my van, and, god, what music do I play? I don't know what the guy likes"

"Well, what's he like? You'll probably get a sense based on his other interests."

"He, er, likes art, and paintings, and he's pretty quiet, and I think he's sad a lot, or he at least dresses like it. I also think he likes old stuff maybe? He was humming a song earlier and it sounded like the kind of stuff my dads listen to."

The other line then fills with the noise of rustling papers as Joan digs through her room in an attempt to find something. Once she does the line clatters again as she picks up the phone to her ear, "I'll bring you a mixtape tomorrow, don't worry about it"

That Sunday, JFK's van idles in the driveway of Vincent's as he debates whether he should just honk or actually walk up to the door and knock, a question solved for him as he sees Van Gogh poke his head out of the front door and wave. JFK returns the wave as Vincent rushes down the front steps into Kennedy's newly cleaned van. JFK pushes Joan's mixtape into the tape deck and pulls out of the driveway, glad to hear that he at least semi recognises the music filtering out of his speakers as one of the ones Joan had him listen to when they first started dating. As they drive van Gogh begins softly singing along to the music playing as he fiddles with the sleeves of his coat. It's a sound JFK wants to save in his mind forever but is quickly over as Vincent stops and looks at him,

"I didn't know you listened to The Velvet Underground."

This snaps JFK out of his trance, as sad as he is that Vincent stopped singing, he's grateful as he probably would have crashed the van with how much he's been glancing over to the passenger seat.   
"I uh, don't really, but Joan got me to listen to a few albums when we first met, her taste in music is awesome, even if I don't get half of what her bands are talking about."   
This answer seems to satisfy Vincent as he goes back to picking at his coat and nodding along to the music.

They back into the parking lot and go inside, wandering from piece to piece, admiring each work of art, occasionally stopping to allow Vincent to explain something or infodump about a certain artist he knew a lot about. This continues for an hour until a certain nameplate caught his eye, JFK wanders over, Vincent in tow, to more closely look at the painting, one made by none other the the original Vincent Van Gogh himself. 

"So, whaddya, uh, think?"

Vincent looks up at the taller man, "about the painting or the guy himself?"

"Er uh, take your pick."

Vincent clicks his tongue, "the painting is nice, not a big fan of the artist though, I'm kind of sick of the whole 'tortured artist' narrative, like yeah, I'm sad, and I do art, those things don't have to be connected you know? Plus he was sort of a prick."

"Cut the guy some slack, from what I hear is wasn't exactly stable"

Vincent continued staring forward at the painting,  
"You can be mentally ill and not a prick, lots of people do it every day, including me. It's just, since I'm his clone, son, thing, everyone expects me to have his issues, and of course I do, but it isn't the be all end all of myself as a person, and it certainly isn't what makes my art good.   
Sometimes I wish I just never took to the painting thing, at least then maybe people would expect me to be less like him."

JFK just looks at him for a moment, not even considering that sharing a talent with your clone father might be a bad thing,   
"Yeah, that sounds rough, if it makes you feel better, I think of you as your own fella! Helps that I don't know shit about the original too!"

Vincent chuckles under his breath,   
"you know what Kennedy? It really does help. I was kind of worried when you asked me to go to this last Wednesday, since guys like you usually don't want to be friends with people like me, but today's actually been nice." 

"Yeah totally." Kennedy mutters, he knew the sentiment was kind, but in the time spent in the gallery, he almost forgot that this still wasn't a date, and that "friend" brought him back to reality. What was wrong with him? He's the king of babes, and he's never had a problem reeling in betties before now. He was always nervous with Joan when they first started going steady, but even then he could always fall back on his usual one liners and innuendos, even if they got him punched more often than not. But he guesses that is the problem, Vincent isn't a betty, not in the traditional sense anyways, and even though he's been confident in his bisexuality for months, this was still uncharted territory for him. Him and Ponce had something close to dating, but it had been friendship for so long that the step into romance felt more like an inevitability than an active choice. Ponce had been his rock, he was the person he came back to no matter what, and even now that he'd processed that grief, it still sort of felt like he was missing a limb. But all of that was stupid anyways, Vincent isn't Joan and he isn't Ponce, Vincent is Vincent and that's more terrifying than anything else he could be.

The ride home is quiet, both tired from a day of wandering room to room, especially when it seemed as if every bench in the place always had a person sitting there already. As they once again pull into Van Gogh's driveway, Vincent stops and looked JFK in the eyes,  
"Thank you, this was, really good, I'm glad you invited me." 

Vincent was staring at JFK with an intensity that made him afraid, even in the low light of the sunset, JFK couldn't help but be conscious of the striking brown colour of Vincent's eyes, a colour that, on the surface, was the same as his, but with so much more depth that his ever carried that calling them the same colour was almost a disservice, Vincent's eyes were want brown was meant to be, they were truly, unrelentingly, beautiful. JFK wanted to tell him this, to grab his hand and kiss him and drive with him until they hit the desert, staring at the sand until they forget what buildings even looked like, but instead he said, "Yeah, no problem man, you're, uh, the bee's knees" 

Vincent stalls for a moment, unsure whether he should invite JFK inside or not, wanting to spend more time with him, but also not wanting to give him the wrong idea, eventually, he decides that he had school tomorrow, and if he invites in Kennedy now, he'd never have the heart to kick him out,

"Alright, well let me know if you want to do something like this again, bye JFK." He said, slipping out of the van and scurrying up the steps into his home. 

"Goddammit Kennedy" JFK muttered to himself, he knows he didn't really do anything wrong, for all intensive purposes, the day went perfectly, but he still felt as though he was holding himself back, "one day" he promises himself, one day I'll just ask him.

JFK pulls out of the driveway and drives back to his home, falling asleep almost immediately in a bed that felt too large.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to the actual Van Gogh for dunking on him like that, also yes I know neither the original JFK or van Gogh had brown eyes bit I do what I want and brown eyes rights babey! Also was this just another chance to force music headcannons onto these characters? Yes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello this one is very short because I wrote it at midnight before class but have fun with it

Joan and JFK were sprawled over JFK's oversized bed, one of JFK's hands held in Joan's as she paints his nails a striking crimson to match hers.

Joan shifted, trying to not let the undercurrent of nerves show. She had wanted to tell John about her feelings fod Vincent for a while, and she knew he'd be supportive, but knowing doesn't make it less anxiety inducing.  
She places JFK's hand back over to his body as she finishes his pinky finger, and moves to a more upright position, leaning on her hands to avoid curling into the ball she so deeply wanted to be in. JFK picked up on her nerves, scooting over to assure her of his presence.  
"Everything alright there er, Joan?"  
Joan looks up at JFK, his face open and soft, his brow just barely furrowed in concern, she wants to kiss him so badly it makes her head feel fuzz, and then she remembers she can kiss him whenever she likes now, so she does so promptly.   
As they part, Joan begins her semi rehearsed explanation,  
"So you know, how you said you liked someone a few weeks ago? Well turns out I do as well, weird timing I know, but I'm thinking of asking out Vincent next week if that's cool?"

JFK's whole face lit up, practically bouncing, "wait! You like Vince too!?"

Joan's face broke into a smile as she filled with relief, "you mean to tell me the boy you've been talking about has been my best friend this whole time?"

"I mean, it's not my fault! Have you seen him, the kid looks like one of those old timey paintings of like, greek gods!"

Joan chuckled softly, "oh god don't I know it, it's like he doesn't know how pretty he is. If I wasn't head over heels for him it'd probably be infuriating."

"He uh, was singing in the car the other day when I put on the mixtape, it was the nicest thing I'd heard since the last time you played for me, I almost crashed my god damn van!"

"Oh! He fell asleep on my shoulder about two weeks ago and I would've let him stay there for the rest of time."

"He does this thing where his eyes crinkle when he focuses on something, and it's just so endearing it makes me want to just uh, be hugging him always."

"I'm teaching him keyboard and did you ever notice that his hands always have paint on them? It's amazing! As well as unreasonably cute."

JFK slings his arm around Joan's waist, "so er, what's the plan? When are we asking out the guy?"

Joan hummed to herself for a moment, leaning into JFK's side, "you know that coffee shop? The one with the records on the walls. I was gonna ask him there after school, if you wanna come as well?"

"It's a date!" JFK beamed.

Joan smiled in the moment, a soft one, that made her eyes sparkle, as JFK looked at her he was once again made aware of how amazing his girlfriend was. The fact he'd managed to date anyone this long, let alone someone like Joan, made him think he was becoming a better person, and that Joan made him want to keep being better. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as they continued to muse about Vincent and how lovely he really was, and JFK sighed contentedly, his life was filled with so much beauty and he was going to keep it that way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent plays DND and talks with Marie curie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically they should be playing 3rd edition because of when this is set but I don't know shit about third edition so enjoy me being as vague as possible about the actual gameplay

The moments after a D&D session were always pleasant. The story beats still fresh and buzzing in everyone's heads as nostradamus begins frantically scribbling notes on next week's session before he forgets them. It was no surprise to anyone that Van Gogh enjoyed dungeons and dragons, however, he did surprise himself with how good he was at it. He made interesting story choices, and played cleverly, he took well to the improv and said things to make the rest of the party laugh with an ease that he scarcely felt in real life. He had friends who cared about him, but D&D made him feel wanted in a way that he only ever felt around Joan, Vincent thought about that feeling a lot, a sense of belonging he didn't know he needed until he felt it. It was a feeling he was becoming more used to and, surprisingly enough, it was a feeling he felt around JFK. Van Gogh allowed himself to get lost in thoughts about JFK and Joan and his own brain for long enough to forget where he was so much so that he neglected to notice Marie Curie walk up and stand next to him.

"Hey Vincent, you good?"

Van Gogh quickly snaps out of his thoughts, looking up at Marie with confusion, "yeah, I'm alright, why do you ask?"

"I just thought I'd check in on you, you've been sitting down staring at nothing and playing with your bandages since the session ended."

Vincent wraps a strand of his hair around his finger as he forms a response, "yeah, I was just thinking, do you think I should dye my hair pink?"

Marie takes the chair next to Vincent, clearly relieved that Van Gogh was in fact, alright, "you can do whatever you want with your hair, Vince, what made you want to though?"

"Well, I was thinking about how nice Joan looks with her pink hair, you know, how the colour really complements her makeup and clothes, and how the cut frames her face really well and brings out her cheekbones."   
Vincent was distinctly aware that he was probably giving Marie more information than necessary about Joan, but the more he spoke the less he wanted to stop. 

Marie just smiles, "I mean, you could dye your hair pink, but I think it would be easier to just tell Joan how you really feel"

Vincent stares blankly at Marie, trying to figure out what she means by this, "Joan already knows I'm her friend, what would I even have to say to he-"  
Vincent freezes, skin flushed a fluorescent red as the realization dawned on him.  
"Fuck."  
Vincent scrambles, trying to form a proper response, "what! No, I couldn't possibly- I just- no, it's not even like she- and JFK! She's with JFK, and I can't hurt him! Have you seen him when he gets sad!? It's like watching a kicked puppy, his eyes go all wide and his brow furrows and you just want to go and stop whatever is making him feel that way so he can go back to how he normally looks. I can't be the person to make him sad, Marie!"

Marie attempted to contain her laughter at Vincent's blustering, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you have a crush on JFK too."

Vincent went quiet, looking at Marie with a mix of fear and frustration, "I don't like this development." Vincent rose and began pacing the length of the table, "oh god, what am I going to do, I like two people who are dating EACH OTHER! That's literally the worst luck possible, and they're both my friends which makes matters even worse, hell, I don't even know if JFK likes guys!"

Marie places a hand on Vincent's shoulder to stop his fervent pacing, "first of all," she says, "Kennedy is very bisexual, you you don't need to worry about that, hell, I think the only straight person who goes to our school is Abe. And you're a great guy, I'm sure they would absolutely adore dating you, and they're polyamorus, so you don't have to freak out about that either."

Once Vincent's breathing had returned to semi normal, he smiled at Marie, "thank you, that really helps." 

Vincent helped Marie pack up the rest of her dice and bid a farewell to the rest of the party, all of them also filtering out to the rest of their afternoon plans.   
As he walks home he began thinking about what Marie said, romantic pursuits were never really a priority of his, sure, Gandhi set him and Ceaser up on a few dates, but they both agreed they were better off friends in the long run. It's not like he had much time for dating, between D&D, school, track, and his paintings he was just content not dating for at least the rest of high school. He thinks about the way Joan makes him feel, the rush he felt whenever she was close to him that he just attributed to anxiety, but he was now realizing was far too pleasant a feeling to be nerves. He knew objectively that JFK was attractive, and he'd be wrong if he said he never let his eyes linger on him during track and field practice, but that didn't excuse how much of his thoughts were taking up by the man in the days following their project together, or the joy he felt when he asked him to go to the art museum. That still didn't fix the main problem at hand, he had no idea if either of them returned his feelings, or what he would do if only ok of them did. Asking either of them out was an idea promptly abandoned in his mind, the amount of variables at play were too many to keep a track of. He fought the creeping nerves that were slowly taking up more space in his brain, determined that even if he now has to deal with a crush on two of his friends, that he would not make things weird. Just for a moment, he allowed himself to think about what could be, of going on dates together, oh JFK joining in on Saturday movie nights, or combing through thrift shops together. He sighed, content to keep his daydreams firmly in his mind for as long as he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho! I have now completed the "they realize they have feelings for one another" part of this story.....what will happen now? (I don't know either I didn't plan this far in advance)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I do not understand how american high schools function so I will simply be vague as possible

Vincent steadied his shaking hands. There were only a few brush strokes left until he completed his painting, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on the task at hand, his mind kept drifting back to Joan and JFK. He made a point to act normal when he was with them, avoiding lingering eyes or touches and keeping his thoughts strictly platonic whenever they were around. Even with all of the measures he has taken, Vincent is positive they've caught on, and are just waiting for the moment to tell him that they need to stop seeing each other.  
Vincent normally eats lunch alone in the art room. He has friends, and he goes out with them on occasion, but school is loud and chaotic, and lunch is one of the few times when he is free to go find a quiet area to be alone without other people creating distractions, not to mention the feeling of being watched while he eats is something that bothers him to no end.   
Today however, Joan had invited him to eat lunch with her and Kennedy, something Vincent has taken to mean that Joan and JFK are finally going to confront him about his feelings. Vincent finishes the painting, counting the moments until the lunch bell rings.

When the lunch bell actually rings, Vincent finds himself Hiding in the washroom, blasting Sing Sing Death House by The Distillers (a band Joan introduced him to, god, there's no escaping her) on his mp3 player in a fervent attempt to get himself to calm down. The more time he spent in this bathroom the weirder it would be to show up, he could just cancel but that would elicit even more questions, oh god, he's fucked.

Eventually he's able to steady his breathing enough to stand. He briefly considers splashing water on his face, but decides that ruining his eyeliner isn't worth the small calmness it would afford him.

Joan drummed her fingers on the table, finding a small comfort from the clacking noises of her shiny black nails on the hard plastic of the cafeteria table. Vincent was rarely late, and if he was, he always texted to let her know he would be. It's possible he's just caught in a particularly crowded part of the hallway, but he had art last period, and that is really only one hallway from the cafeteria, so it wouldn't make sense for him to take this long. Joan was easily the more nervous person in her relationship, but JFK looks just as anxious, if not more so, than she is, his knee bouncing at a speed that makes his entire leg blur with the motion, his head quickly jerking to face any noise he thinks might be Van Gogh. She places her hand over his, tracing small circles on his palm in an attempt to keep him grounded, her other hand still rapidly tapping on the table.   
It was at this moment that Vincent finally made an appearance, looking slightly more pale and disheveled than normal, but intact nonetheless. Both JFK and Joan visibly relaxed as Vincent entered and sat across from the two.  
"Sorry I'm late, art class ran long." 

"Don't er, worry about it dude," John said, though he cringed internally at the overly platonic use of the word 'dude' 

The conversation carried on much in this fashion, Joan being visibly on edge, but capable of carrying conversation, JFK playing up his already dudebro personality to the point of parody, and Vincent feeling the crushing weight of all his feelings, making him want to apologise after every sentence to try and save grace. As tension remaines high throughout the conversation, JFK decides to use the one tried and true method he knew, and starts asking Joan questions about music. 

Kennedy watches in adoration as Joan's whole face lit up at mention of one of her passions, her nervous tapping turning to one of enthusiasm as she launched into an in depth explanation of various political movements and the music surrounding them, with Vincent there to chime in with historical significance or to add his own tangents to the story. Joan talking about the things she loves always turned the energy in the room to an exciting one as you got caught in her enthusiasm, even if you weren't particularly knowledgeable about whatever she was talking about. The conversation soon shifted to Joan and Van Gogh both avidly discussing Kinderwhore Vincent rapidly sketching out visual aids to the best of his ability while still participating in the conversation. JFK was sure he'd heard all of this from Joan before, but it didn't matter, JFK was simply in awe of how he managed to get two amazing, clever people in his life, he was always captivated in whatever they said, even if he rarely fully understood what they were talking about, watching them come alive and talk with such love and care about a subject they knew a lot about was a thing John was sure he'd never tire of. 

As the end of lunch bell rang, any anxiety felt at the beginning had fully dissipated. Joan had invited Van Gogh to a coffee shop with her and JFK this weekend as per their plan, and they all stood to get to their next classes.  
JFK gives Joan a kiss on the forehead as per usual and moves to do the same for Van Gogh before catching himself. In his panic, he instead gives Vincent an overly enthusiastic high five that left his hand stinging, and quickly speed walks to his next class.  
As he walks through the crowded hallways he silently congratulates himself on a mostly successful lunch. Awkward high five non withstanding, he had a very nice time, not to mention he was going to see Van Gogh again this weekend, and hopefully if all goes right, take him on an honest to God date in the future. He was thinking too far ahead, sure, but the possibility still buzzed in his mind, and would continue to do so for much longer. First things first though, he and Joan have a coffee shop plan to discuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have many thoughts, head full   
> (also I do cosplay, I forgot to say that, if you wanna see em, I'm @the.mages.heir on Tik tok)


	8. Chapter 8

Joan fixes her jacket, looking at herself in the mirror as JFK cuffs his khakis.  
"Are you sure this'll work John?"  
"Er, I mean probably, and even if it doesn't all that would uh happen is he'd say no."

Joan moves to kiss as JFK on the cheek, "yeah you're right about that I guess" 

"I always am Joan"

Joan decides not to fight kennedy on this and instead enjoy his comforting embrace 

Vincent fiddles with the hem of his coat, reminding himself once again that no, this is not a date, friends get coffee completely platonically all the time. None of this actually helps his nerves as he keeps fidgeting and pacing around the house until he finally hears the doorbell ring.

At the door he's met with Joan, wearing a stuffed leather jacket and black tea skirt that perfectly matched his own. JFK was wearing a somehow distinctively nicer version of his regular red sweater and khakis.   
The trio stare at one another in silence, each wanting to speak to one another but not knowing how to start.  
As per usual, JFK went on to break the silence.  
"I uh, like your skirt, Vincent."

Vincent looked down as if to check that he was, in fact, wearing the skirt he put on this morning. "Oh! Uh, thanks, you also look nice, both of you!"   
The three continued their pleasantries as they walked to JFK's van and drove to the coffee shop.

They all settle into the booth, Joan holding a green tea and JFK holding two of the sweetest most brightly colored beverages the store offered, and slides one of the cups over to Vincent.   
JFK takes a sip, "so Vince, whaddya think they put in it to make it neon blue?"

Vincent stirs it a little with the straw, inspecting the drink closely in an attempt to uncover its secrets. "Some kind of syrup probably, or maybe it's a fruit," he looks up at Joan for confirmation, "do fruits come in electric blue?"

Joan's laughter, sharp and distinct filtered through the coffee shop as she tries to form a coherent answer, "fuck it, sure man, fruit can come in electric blue."

As the three continued to laugh and make jokes, both JFK and Joan became aware that they needed to actually ask Vincent on a date in order to get his answer.

"So we, Joan and I are going on a date this Wednesday.." Kennedy said, leaning in on his elbows as he waits for Vincent's response.

Vincent meets Kennedy's eyes for a moment before quickly looking away, "good for you two."

"No, we uh, were wondering if you'd like or join us on the, er, date."

Vincent's brow furrowed in confusion, "if it's a date i'd assume you'd want to be alone together, I'll third wheel if you want me to, but I would probably make things awkward?"

Jfk opened his mouth to reply, bit as he did, Joan cut in, "no, vincent, we mean that you also come to the date, like, romantically, I'm not sure how you feel about polyamory, but John and I both like you and if you feel the same way, we'd love to have you come with us."

"You're fucking with me." Vincent flinched at the bluntness of the statement as soon as he said it. What the hell, he finally had a chance to go out with the two people who had been taking over his thoughts for the past months, and he's already fucking it up. He can barely compute what they just said to him over the sound of his own thoughts, he's sure that this is some kind of weird joke there pulling, but if it isn't he's absolutely fucked, so might as well treat it as if it's genuine.   
"Sorry! God that was mean, I'd really like that. Just as long as you mean it and this isn't like, a really weird prank you're both pulling." 

JFK gave Van Gogh his best attempt at a reassuring smile, "I er uh, promise it's not a prank."

Vincent felt his face heat, as his hands shook with excitement at the prospect of actually going on an honest to God date with the two people he cared about most, "Well in that case, it's a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They did it! They actually achieved the thing! They did it awkwardly but it still happened


	9. Chapter 9

Vincent digs through his closet, clothes piled around his ankles as he searches for the article of clothing he was sure he owned. Finally he lifts up an old cardigan to reveal underneath what he wanted to find, a deep blue skirt, A line and came down just to his ankles, with small silver rhinestones sewn in that made it look like the night sky. He puts on black stockings, a small gold chain necklace and an assortment of silver rings. He pairs this all with a black button up embroidered with vines up the sleeves. He ponders his reflection in the mirror, considering everything, and unbuttons the top button of his shirt. This was a day he'd thought about more than he'd care to admit over the past few weeks. The idea that this was actually happening, that in a matter of hours he'd be going on a genuine date with Joan and Kennedy, was something that excited him to no end. But at the same time, the familiar buzz of anxiety was unmistakable. There's so many things he could say or do to mess this up, all of which are playing over and over again in his mind. After carefully replacing his bandages, he took to pacing around the room, losing himself in his own thoughts. He meant to do this for maybe a few minutes, hell he didn't even start pacing intentionally, but when he looked up at his clock, he had fifteen minutes to get to the restaurants and if he waited a moment longer he'd surely be late. So, he swallowed his nerves and stepped outside, hell, he wouldn't get a chance to fuck it up if he didn't go, but he could also not fuck it up, so might as well.

Joan delicately winds her hair around her curling, listening as Toots winds on about his early days in jazz. Hearing Toots' stories always helped calm her nerves, she thinks he knows this, since he always finds his way to her room as she prepares for any big event in her life. The story finished just as soon as she completes applying her lipstick. She inspects her face, looking for any mistakes in makeup or missing spots not covered in the pigment of her choice.  
"You almost ready Joanie?" Toots inquires as if he sensed her pause.

"Sure am Toots, just nervous, you know?"

"Now what would my granddaughter have to be nervous about? She's just going to dinner with her two best friends."

Joan smiled, taking small reassurance in her foster grandfather's words, "yeah I know, but it's still a date, and there's a lot that could go wrong" 

Toots walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder, "those boys are both over to moon for you, I've heard their voices when they talk to you Joanie, you don't have anything to worry about, I promise."

Joan leans her head on the hand, "thanks Toots. Now I've got a date to get to."

His dad's both gave him a kiss on the cheek as he exited his home 

"Be safe baby! Be home by midnight!"   
Wally says, waiving him off as he walks to his van and starts the engine.   
JFK wasn't sure why he was leaving so early, he had nearly half an hour until their agreed upon time, and it barely took fifteen minutes to drive to the restaurant.   
He had really overestimated the amount of time it took him to get ready, leaving him bouncing his legs as he sat on the couch waiting for when he needed to leave in anxious silence. Eventually he thought, fuck it, he might as well leave, bringing him here, driving to the restaurant thirty minutes early, blasting Queen at a level that would would be troubling to anyone riding with him.  
John F Kennedy has never once been nervous for a date and he sure as hell isn't going to start now, but even with how many times he repeated that, his whole body felt as if it was electrified, and not in a good way. But he kept driving, taking the long route as to not be horrendously early, maybe Vincent said yes to the date by accident? Maybe he thought it was, like, a platonic date? Oh god, what if he read this whole situation wrong? Fuck, he might have already messed this all up and he hasn't even stepped out of the van. He took a deep breath and tried to think of what Joan would tell him in this situation, that he's worrying more than he needs to, and that it wouldn't make sense for Vincent to not know this was a date, he said it was a date after all. Kennedy lays his head back in the seat of his van, mumbling along with Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy as it plays over his stereo. It didn't really matter if he was ready, he was going in there no matter what, so he opens the door to the van and steps out into the cold air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, next chapter might be a few days late because writing is hard but I promise the next chapter is at least partially written!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the dead babey! Which mean y'all finally get the date!

JFK drummed his fingers on the table. This restaurant was far more crowded than he expected and the chatter of crowds made him want to cry.   
JFK had been early for exactly three things in his life, the first two times were by accident, and the third is today. Going on a date with Joan was something he knew, it was easy, and normal, but Vincent being there must change something, right? It's not like they hadn't all hung out together before, but a date was a recontextualization, uncharted territory, and he was terrified it would go wrong.

Vincent arrives second, his skirt glittering in a way that made it hard for John to stop staring. 

"Hiya Vince! You er, look really nice"

"Thanks, so do you"

Both parties blushed at the comment, Vincent rocking back and forth on his feet making the skirt swish nicely around him. Realising that they were both standing in the middle of the restaurant, they take their seats. 

"So uh-"  
"Yeah anyways-"

The two make hey contact for a brief moment before bursting into laughter

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this, Kennedy." Vincent says, eyes twinkling.

"Well I er, never been on a date with someone as handsome as you." Kennedy chuckles

Vincent's eyes go wide as he blushes, "oh"

Before he can form a response, Joan walks through the doors and makes eye contact with both boys

"Er uh, hiya Joanie!"

"Hey Joan!"

Joan takes her seat greeting her two partners, "Wow Kennedy, I think this is the first time you've gotten someplace before me like, ever."

"Well it's uh, an important night, and pacing around my house wasn't doing me any good."

The trio orders and Joan turns to Vincent as they wait for their food,  
"so, how'd the last session go? You said nostradamus planned something pretty big?"

Vincent's face lights up as he prepares to lay out the story, "so, you know that NPC we picked up from the library, turns out she was working for the cult the whole time so we ended up getting kidnapped, but then Arlo, that's Marie's character, thunderstepped out and…"

Vincent continued the story like that for quite some time with wild hand gestures and occasional voices, stopping every so often to explain a mechanic or peice of lore he found particularly interesting barely registering when the food finally got to the table. When the story winded down Vincent was out of breath and filled with that pleasant feeling that always occupies him after talking about one of his passions, a feeling made even better when he looks to see that both Joan and JFK were completely enraptured in the story.

JFK beamed, "woah man, I er, kind of thought dungeon and dragons was nerd shit but that uh, sounds really cool!"

Vincent chuckled slightly at the nerd shit comment, "yeah, it can be kind of scary to start out, it's pretty intimidating to just jump it with making a character and all of the mechanics on top of role-playing someone, but once you get the hang of it, it's really fun to just let go of your identity for a few hours and be somebody else"

Joan looks around at the people in front of her, soberingly aware of their clone parents, and the kind of life that sets them up for, "god, that sounds nice."

"You know, I could probably run a one shot for you guys, to get you acclimated to playing. We'd need a few more people for it to work but I bet it'd be really entertaining" Vincent suggested 

"Fuck yeah dude!" JFK smiled, "I wanna make stuff er, blow up with magic!"

They continue to discuss oneshot plans for a few more moments before the conversation peters out and they're left with the clattering noise of their surroundings.

"Hey, do you wanna go somewhere?" Joan asks, partially just trying to remove herself from the noise of the bustling restaurant.

They get their food in styrofoam containers and exit, wandering the quiet night time streets of Exclamation, USA, settling on an empty pool attached to a nearby park, legs dangling over the edge as they eat the overpriced food they'd bought. This was much better Joan thought, as their chatter echoed through the empty neighborhood. It was pretty late by now and she reveled in the two men leaning into her for support, the heat coming off of them enough to keep away the late October chill. 

Joan could get used to this, all three of them together as a unit, no longer Joan and JFK or Joan and Vincent. It was nice to see how much the two cared for her and each other, comfortable in the knowledge that she cared just as much for them. Vincent's involvement in a romantic sense, was still very new and Joan was excited to learn what kind of partner he is. 

Just a year ago Joan was more alone than she'd ever been, pining after Abe with absolutely no success, and not bothering to talk to anyone outside him and Gandhi. Meeting Vincent changed a lot of things for her, he was funny, and smart, and one of the most passionate people she'd ever met, he made her want to take risks and he was the first person aside from Toots who she actually felt like she could talk to when she cared about something.

Being with JFK was terrifying at first. Dating someone that popular made her feel like every eye at the school was trained on her, it was a kind of pressure she never felt before, always managing to stay under the radar of the student body. But eventually the dust settles and she was left with JFK, just JFK. He was a lot more earnest that she would have ever expected, and kind too. They built each other up, and had each other's backs. He made her feel safe, like after every day she has a home to return to, and a place where she could just be herself, it was a kind of belonging she knew she was lucky to have found, especially at this age.

It wasn't like she hadn't noticed the way the two boys felt about each other as well. The way Vincent would always brighten when he entered a room, and how he always found his way back to painting him when he was at a loss for subject matter. JFK seemed steadier when he was around, like he'd been stabilised. He'd let his guard down just a little, and allow himself fleeting glances and the artist. They were good for eachother.

They all parted ways at the end of the night, saying goodbyes and "we should do this again"s 

As JFK walked back to the restaurant to get his car he ran his finger over the leather of his jacket, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something right. He promised himself he wouldn't fuck it up, "c'mon kennedy, tonight was the first of many dates, don't blow it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know if thunder step is a spell in 3e? No! But I put it in because I think it's neat


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!TW: mild allusion to self harm!!   
> (don't worry everyone is okay)  
> If that's an issue feel free to skip this chapter as it's not really important to the overarching plot of the story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated my upload schedule to just once a week on Thursdays to better allow for planning and also because everything is very busy, hope y'all are doing well considering the state of the world and take time for yourself! You deserve it!

Vincent felt JFK's chest rise and fall as he rested his head on the larger man. The three of them lay sprawled across Vincent's bedroom, Joan resting her head on the foot of the bed, sitting on the floor, with Vincent and JFK stretched across the bed itself. They've all abandoned watching the movie, which credits plays from the tv across the room. All of a sudden Vincent became hyper aware of the bandages around his head, this happened on occasion and would usually be remedied by him removing and replacing them. He hasn't yet had a conversation with his partners about the bandages themselves, but it's not like they couldn't see them, and he was comfortable enough with questions about it. 

Vincent stirs and sits up next to JFK,   
"I gotta go change my bandages, y'all stay here I'll just be gone for a second" 

Joan turns to face him, her expression taught with worry, "Vince, I've been meaning to talk about this, and it's fine if you don't want to answer, but what happened? You've had those bandages the whole time I've known you" 

Vincent turns in her direction, "it's alright it's probably time for you two to know." 

JFK's face goes pale, "I heard some rumors at school of what happened, you didn't really er…." He trails off

Vincent reaches a hand up to his head and begins undoing the bandages,   
"It's better if I just show you."

The bandages loosen as Vincent unwinds them until they completely fall away, leaving Joan and JFK staring at Vincent's two completely intact ears, save for a slightly infected looking helix piercing at the top of his left ear.

"I tried to pierce it myself a while ago but I didn't take great care of it and it got infected so I wore the bandages to try and keep it cleaner. Plus, the fabric over my ears helps with sensory overload so I can focus in class better. Now it's just sort of a comfort thing more than any actual medical need."

Jfk looks completely floored, "But! I heard Gandhi say you cut it off sophomore year! I swear it was true!"

"Yeah when i first started wearing them most people assumed the obvious thing, didn't seem worth it to correct them every time so everyone just took my lack of comment as proof"

They all sit there for a moment, processing this new information, before Joan breaks the silence, "do you wanna borrow some of my piercing care stuff?" She says, crawling up onto the bed to sit next to her boyfriends. 

"Yeah that would be nice" Vincent sighed

Joan shuffles next to Vincent, gingerly placing her head on his shoulder,  
"I'm glad you didn't cut your ear off, for the record."

Vincent places a kiss on her hairline, "yeah, me too" Vincent fiddles with his hair, now free to do so with his bandages removed, "speaking of piercings, how do you think I'd look with a septum? I've been thinking of getting one for a while, professionally this time, of course."

"Hey no fair" JFK sprawls himself along the laps of his two partners, "I uh, want some jewelry!"

Joan brushes JFK's hair away from his ear, "hm, I could look into getting your ears pierced, we should probably just start small, but if you want to, I don't see why not. We could all get some piercings, we'll make a day of it!"

"re uh, Hell yeah! Piercing date!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had this head cannon literally since I first started clone high and now all of you have to hear it


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gender time babey!!!!

Vincent assesses himself in the full length mirror, twirling as to get the full range of motion of his skirt.

"Whaddya think?" Van gogh turns to face JFK sitting on his bed 

"You er, look really nice Vince!" Jfk says bouncing a little on the mattress as he talks. "I er uh, was thinking, what if I wore some skirts? I er, don't usually go in for girly stuff, but you look really handsome in 'em and I thought I'd try it out!"  
Much to Kennedy's surprise, he felt no anxiety as the words left his lips. Even after being made conscious of his own issues regarding his sexuality, and his need to perform masculinity to an absurd amount, he still felt the pressure to conform to what society wanted from him. Given all of this, he thought he'd be nervous, but Vincent's reassuring presence kept any nerves at bay. Vincent made him feel secure, and seeing his confidence when defying any gender norms made John more willing to embrace his own fluidity. 

"Okay!" Vincent squeaked, rushing to his wardrobe and rifling through to find something befitting of his partner, "I don't have a great selection, most of my things are pretty geared towards my own style, but I think these'll work nice" Vincent bounced a bit on the balls of his feet as he laid out the skirts. 

JFK stands to survey the three skirts laid out on the bed, the first one, a long panel skirt that was a deep brown that approximated Vincent's eye colour. The second a shorter, bubblegum pink, pleated, A-line skirt, and The third skirt, a knee length asymmetrical skirt, that begins deep blue at the waist and slowly transitions to a black and shimmers ever so slightly in the light of Vincent's bedroom. 

JFK looks over each option carefully before picking up the pink one, "I er, think I wanna start with this one!"

Vincent smiles up at the taller man, "okay great! The bathroom is down the hall if you wanna go change there." 

A few moments later, JFK re-enters the room wearing the skirt, and walks over to the mirror to examine it for himself.  
The skirt was nice, it hung well on his frame, ending just a bit above the knee, and created a good silhouette.   
JFK rubbed the fabric at the hem of the skirt between his fingers,  
"I like it!"  
JFK swishes from side to side, watching the skirt move with him, "these are like, really comfortable!"

Vincent watches John as he fiddles with the fabric of the skirt, "you know, you can have that one if you want, never really was my colour anyways"

JFK beams, "wait, er, really!?"

"Go ahead, it suits you."

"You know, Vince, I'm really glad I've gotten secure enough in my gender to uh, do stuff like this, I think you really help with that, er, thanks"

"No problem!" Vincent makes an impulse decision and continues speaking, "uhm, speaking of gender, I was thinking and I was wondering if you could use they/them pronouns for me along with the he/him, you know, if that's okay with you."

JFK sits with Vincent on the bed, "of course it's, er, okay!" JFK slings his arm over Vincent's shoulders, "I've uh, been tryin to learn more about, gender and stuff, I think it's really cool how people can be so many different things!"

Vincent sighs with relief, "cool. I was a bit worried to see how you'd react, not a lot of people are into the idea, but thanks JFK, that means a lot." 

"No worries bud, but hey, are you still cool with being called my boyfriend?"

Vincent leans his weight into JFK, "yeah, I think I am"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I firmly believe in he/they Vincent rights and now you all have to deal with it


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent meets jfk's parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI IM BACK I KNOW ITS BEEN LIKE TWO MONTHS AND IM SORRY BUT IM BACK SO HERES THE CHAPTER HAVE FUN

JFK and Vincent stroll down the street, JFK slowing himself slightly to keep pace with the shorter teen,   
"You er, don't have to come if you don't wanna"

Vincent startles out of his own thoughts, "no no, it's fine, I want to meet your parents"

JFK takes Vincent's hand in his, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of their hand, "alright, just remember that it's your uh, choice"

"Of course dear." Vincent pauses for a moment, "your parents are they, uhm, okay with us?"

JFK bursts out laughing, "oh yeah, they are more than okay with us!"

Vincent looks oddly at him as he says this but decides it's best not to push. They walk down the cobblestone path, and up the stairs until they reach JFK's doorstep. 

JFK barely knocks once when the door swings open, revealing JFK's fathers standing enthusiastically in the doorway. 

'oh', Vincent thinks to himself, 'that actually...explains a lot.'

"Oh! Come in come in! You'll let all the heat out."  
the shorter one, God Vincent probably should have learned their names before turning up to their house for dinner, ushers them inside and quickly shuts the door behind them. 

They both lead the boys into the dining room   
"Sorry for the mess we didn't have much time to clean" the taller one says

Vincent looks around to see that despite JFK's father's comment, the house was near immaculate, everything properly organized and in it's neat little home on a shelf or table.

As they enter the dining room, the shorter one pauses and turns on his heel to face the two boys,   
"Oh my where are my manners? I'm Wally and this tall drink of water next to me is Carl!"  
He says, nudging his husband with his elbow, who straightens his posture

"Er, I dunno about tall drink of water but yeah, I'm Carl"  
he sticks out his hand for Vincent to shake which Vincent takes eagerly enough trying to not think too hard about how firm he is meant to be gripping or how sweaty his palms are.

"Nice to meet you both" Vincent smiles, happy to get at least the beginning pleasantries out of the way. 

Vincent, JFK, and Wally all pull up a chair at the dinner table as Carl sets the table, rejecting Vincent's offers to assist multiple times in the process,   
"You're our guest, you don't gotta worry about doing any work while you're here, okay?"  
Despite his instincts to continue to offer help, Vincent stays seated, more afraid of offending their host than being seen as unhelpful.   
So Vincent sits, praying for JFK to start up some small talk with his fathers. This prayer was luckily answered as JFK piped up  
"How was work today dad?"  
Wally lets out a sigh for longer than what Vincent thought was humanly possible,   
"Sally is at it again, I swear to God that woman will never stop giving me a hard time for just doing my job."

"Do ya have any er, lockers around? Whenever there's somebody causing problems at school I just shove em in a locker and boom, problem solved!"

Vincent and Wally both chuckle quietly and JFK's comment   
"Sorry dear, there's no lockers in the office. Plus I doubt I could shove anybody in a locker nowadays, not with my back the way it is."

Jfk shrugs, "tough luck then, dad, uh, sorry about that"

Just then, Carl sets out plates for his family, and joins them at the table. Wally takes a bite and makes a noise of approval,  
"oh you've really outdone yourself dear, it's wonderful!"

Vincent hums in agreement, "the food looks lovely, Mr, uh…."  
Vincent then realized that he doesn't know Wally and Carl's last name, surely it isn't actually Kennedy? But he'd been given no clue as to what it actually could be. Oh god he's trailed off for far too long and they're all looking at him fuck. 

Carl sees Vincent's hesitation and barks out a laugh, "please, Vince, just call me Carl, Mr uh was my father."

Wally and JFK both laugh politely at carl's, albeit kind of corny joke

Vincent sighs in relief, grateful for Carl's joke smoothing out the conversation.

The night continues very much in the same fashion. Vincent had never been one for carrying conversation or picking up on social cues, and only felt the need to talk when asked about music or art, but JFK's parents, much like their son, had no problem shifting the attention to themselves when they felt that Vincent needed some time to collect his thoughts. 

Soon enough, it was time for Vincent to return home and he was thanking JFK's parents for the meal and their hospitality. JFK continues to off to walk Vincent home despite Vincent's protests that they'd be fine and it made no sense for JFK to walk them to his house when JFK was already in his, but JFK was never one for common sense, and eventually Vincent gave in, not wanting to say no to more time with his boyfriend. 

Vincent steps out with JFK in tow, glad to have the cool night air grounding him.   
"So how do you think I did?" Vincent asks.

"You did great babe! I think they er, really like ya!"

"You don't think I messed up too bad by not knowing their last name?" 

"Don't sweat it, I don't even know their last name!"

Vincent laughs, "you should definitely know that, but thank you."  
The tension in their shoulders dissipates a little with the affirmation that they did well at dinner.  
Vincent takes JFK's hand in his, "you know, if you want I could have you and Joan over for dinner one night, meet my parents and all that. But like, only if that's something you'd want to do?"

JFK beams, "er yeah, I think I'd like that"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow I've been gone for a very long time, the fic is almost done and I'm gonna try and get the rest of the chapters out in a more timely fashion, sorry about the delay but sometimes that happens i suppose. Happy holidays if you celebrate that if not have a nice winter!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short than usual but woo hoo!! Penultimate chapter!! Enjoy!

Vincent, Joan and JFK all once again lay in a booth at the grassy knoll. It's just past midnight and JFK leans into Vincent's side, letting them prop him up, too tired to stay upright all on his own. Joan sits across from them, doodling flowers on a semi crumpled napkin. Half drunk milkshakes litter the table as the ambient noise of the wait staff cleaning serves as a backdrop. They had all been staying over at Vincent's house for the night when they'd been hit with a sudden burst of restlessness they decided to work out by walking to get some late night milkshakes. Of course, that energy faded almost as soon as they sat down in the worn leather booth.

It's been a few months since they first sat down in this restaurant and was asked out by his now two favorite people, three and a half months to be exact. He doesn't exactly know how to describe how these monththace made him feel. Settled, maybe? Like the angry buzz of anxiety always in his mind has subsided to just a faint thrum, secure in the knowledge that there's people in their life that they care for and who care for them. JFK and Joan made him feel more wanted than he had in an incredibly long time. The more time they spend with their partners the more they find themselves noticing and appreciating aspects of their personality that he didn't give much thought beforehand.   
He can't be sure, but he thinks he's been a good influence on his partners as well. They've noticed Joan being more forward with her wants, and more willing to open up and talk about her interests without fear of judgement or being told she's being too much. JFK has grown immensely, and is more able to talk about his feelings in a mature way, as well as taking into account the feelings of others. Of course, he can't attribute all of the progress the others have made to just himself, they all influence each other to be better people and he's sure JFK wouldn't be half as happy without Joan and vice versa.

Vincent continues to let himself stay in this feeling of comfort, with the people he loves around him and nothing that can get in the way of that. 

Joan blows the wrapper of her straw into JFK's face, making him crinkle his nose and retaliate by blowing his own wrapper at her, only to have it miss and land in her water. they all laugh and JFK curled more into Vincent's side pressing his forehead to Vincent's shoulder as he chuckles. 

"I think I love you." Vincent says it quietly but it echos back in his ears so loudly he could have sworn he was shouting.   
Joan and JFK both turn to them, eyes wide, and they immediately regret the choice to speak.

"Oh god that was fucking stupid, sorry about that I totally fucked up and ruined the vibe, like, we were just having a nice night and I totally didn't need to say anything and it's probably too early to think about anything like that I mean we're just teenagers and who am I to say what love is I don't know anything you obviously don't have to say anything back just forget I said anything at all we can just ignore it in fact I didn-"

"I love you too, Vince." Joan cuts him off.

"Oh" Vincent fiddles with the napkin in front of him, "that's good" 

Jfk cuts in, "I er uh, also love you dude, obviously" 

Joan reaches across the table and takes Vincent's hand in hers,   
"we all love each other and that's all, everything is alright. Alright?"

Vincent smiles and rubs a thumb across the back of her hand, "alright."

JFK leans over and kisses them both, "now that that's er, all sorted out, we should probably get outta here. It's like two am and I think that wait staff is gonna bash our uh, heads in if we stay much longer."

The three leave the diner, tripping over themselves and laughing about something or other one of them said. When they get back to Vincent's they all collapse almost immediately and sleep deeper than they have in a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! have a nice day! (or night, time is odd)


End file.
